Page 129 of Breaking Hollywood

“Could you have Vaughn call Gabe?”

“Gabe? As in, Gabe Evans?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. But why are you asking me to get Vaughn to call Gabe? I didn’t think you guys knew each other well. Or at all.”

I take a deep breath. “We didn’t. But we do now. It’s a long story. I just really need Vaughn to call Gabe.”

She picks up on the urgency of my tone. “What’s going on, Ava?”

An unexpected sob bursts from me. I press my hand to my mouth.

“Shit, Ava. What’s going on?”

“Just Gabe and I were together, and now, we’re not because he thinks I did something that I didn’t. And, now, something’s about to be made public and it’s going to really hurt him and I don’t want him to be alone and I would have called his brother, but I don’t know his number, and I know Vaughn is a good friend and I thought he could call him—”

“Okay, babe. I’ll get Vaughn to call Gabe. But, first, I need you to take a deep breath and tell me everything from the start.”

So, I do. I tell her everything—from the moment I hit Gabe with my car to what just happened in his apartment. The only things I leave out are the details of Gabe’s past. It might be public knowledge soon, but I made a promise that I wouldn’t ever tell a soul, and I’m keeping that promise even if Gabe thinks I didn’t.

“Jesus, Ava. I don’t know what to say. I just—”

“It’s fine, Charly.”

“No, it’s not fine. He blames you for this when you haven’t done anything wrong.”

My heart swells because she believes me at my word, which is more than Gabe did.

“And the first thing you do is call me, so I can have Vaughn check on him. Guy doesn’t know how lucky he is.”

“He’s hurting.”

“He’s an asshole. I’m sorry, Ava, but he is.”

No, he’s in pain. He thinks I’ve betrayed him.

But I don’t want her to think I’m making excuses for him, so I say nothing.

“Will you just have Vaughn call him, please?”

“He’s calling him now.”

“Oh. Good. That’s great. Thank you.”

There’s a brief pause, and then Charly says, “So, what are you going to do now?”

I let out a sigh. “I don’t know.”

“Do you have anywhere to stay?”

I look around my car and at Gucci, who climbed back onto the passenger seat while I’ve been talking to Charly.

“Well, I can try to get a hotel room, but I don’t know of any hotels that’ll take Gucci.”

“Who the hell is Gucci?”

“She’s my pygmy goat.”